308 caliber

Last night anders and I ate dinner with my father and stepmother in sudden valley. All nine cats were timid as though they were rescue pets, except for pumpkin, the big black diabetic. My stepmother, kim, made a stew with kale, white beans, tomatoes, olives, mushrooms, homemade crutons the size of silver dollars, with a blanket of large parmesan shavings. The parmesan melted, draping itself into a web on our silver spoons. There was red wine. After dinner, kim spooned lumps of rocky road cookie dough onto a sheet while my father told anders what type of caliber gun would best suit him for hunting. Kim guffawed from talk of killing deer. My father yelled, "I'll always be a hunter!" On the drive home I thought about how it seems like everyone's getting married.